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E Jan 2019
You can keep your Army khaki,

You can keep your Navy blue,

I have the World's best fighting man,

To introduce to you

His uniform is different,

The best you've ever seen,

The Germans called him "Devil Dog"

His real name is "Marine."

He was born on Parris Island,

The place where God forgot.

The sand is eighteen inches deep,

The sun is blazing hot.

He gets up every morning,

Before the rising sun.

He'll run a hundred miles and more,

Before the day is done.

He's deadly with a rifle,

A bayonet made of steel.

He took the Warrior's calling card,

He's mastered *******.

And when he gets to Heaven,

St. Peter he will tell,

One more Marine reporting, sir,

I've spent my time in Hell.

So listen, all you young girls,

To what I have to say;

Go find yourself a young Marine,

To love you everyday.

He'll hug you and he'll kiss you,

And treat you like a queen,

There is no better Fighting Man,

The United States Marine
Another cadence from my day's on Paris Island
E Jan 2019
Had me a pig and his name was Sam
Sunday he was bacon on Monday he was ham
Had me a steer and his name was Jake
Tuesday he was burgers on Wednesday he was steak
Grinding my K bar in the barn
While my donkey run's this farm
This is one of the Cadences from my Day's in the Marine Corps
Paris Island
3086 Bravo Co
E Jan 2019
Low down deep in slum's
I gave up on the reason for the drum
Woe is me
Why can't I see
I'd best be leaving well enough alone

These neon light night's
Can't stay out of fight's
It keep's haunting me in memories
I was down on love fable's
And drinking at gable's
And generally blowing all my hard earned pay

Rock and Roll Blue's
Danced hole's in my shoes
There truly was no other way to be
For lovable loser's
And no count chooser's
And worn out old Heroes
Like me
E Jan 2019
You could have smiled
but you did not
You could have laughed
but you did not
So now we are at this point in life in which we are stuck
Yes..... us
It was the thought of us making it further
It could have been a mistake
No...... it was a mistake
But in a way I suppose we are not to blame for this
You could not have known
And I could not have told you
I could not have showed you
Even if I tried
I don't blame you
I blame I

You tried to help me
I did not listen
I was to stubborn to heed you're call
The harder you tried
The further I'd fall
I don't want to fight
I suppose I surrender
So in this letter
Return to sender
But when you do
Remember that I
Do not blame you
I blame I

So I guess this road some way now end's
A lot of twist and turn's around the bend
I hope I find what I'm reaching for the way that it is in my mind
I hope you love and love no more
And do it the best you can
And in that sound the 5:30 bell
there's a train at the station
The whistle has wailed
Darling I loved you
Boy how I tried
I do not blame you
I blame I
Just figured what the heck nothing better to do
E Jan 2019
Ah now the time has met me
You have been cold for a year or so
I find that you have kept you're self hidden within my heart
Is it the pen or is it me that write's to you now I am not sure.
I am sure you have heard of the departure to Spain
If not for my inheritance I would go but it is my misfortune I am here
I do hope that the jewel found you happy it was to speculation to send it so far away but I was told by a close ally of mine that it would arrive to you safely I hope it has.
Mother is ill this month I am afraid this fever may take her I am sure you will want to return upon hearing this new's but please do not you are much needed where you are and you are a very valuable asset to our cause.
In any case I miss you dearly I find myself taking time to be alone just to think about you and if I continue to miss you my heart may burst with this lonesome fever that has been eating at my soul.
I had a dream the night before last that you were wearing that lovely dress the one with the velvet red and blue waves through it.
You were walking or yet dancing down the stair's and you slowly stopped at the banister. You're cheek's were as fair as they have ever been and my heart began to burst with sheer joy.
Helen I do think very much of you and I wonder if you feel the same I will ask you something when I make my way to you I must implore you let me make the journey for it is long and dangerous I shall be with you soon.
But it bother's me when I wake to moonlight and notice you're Staddle is not in our bed only Mine lays lonesome
I truly and deeply miss you so very much.

Mother send's her love and honor
I will think of you until we meet again
Yours truly: Edwin Kennith Coventry III
To: My Loving Helen

A little poem to lift you're spirits

I had but dream's before thine eye's had met thee softly willow
I answer to thine heart of thee that may I hold thee
And as of me I send my love and all that lay's within
I kiss thine heart and dream to be
With my love once again.

Found this letter it has no date
I am not sure who it was
Not my father's handwriting
But it was a bit poetic maybe you can guess how old it is
Also had poem in the letter kinda cool right
E Jan 2019
He spend's all his day's alone in a room
Studying plans of thing's he might do
From chimney's to rooftops to floor's down below
He never quite know's where his plan's may go
He studies and read's and does arithmetic
Finding a floor plan yes one that will stick
And in all his studies he never will find a floor plan of reason
A floor plan of life
He simply forgets his wife and his kid's she cheated last summer
He neglected a bit
His children they cures they're mighty ill raised
But he does not care till his floor plan's are laid
From morning till night he'll sit all alone
Drawing and writing those plan's of his own
And when he has finished
He will look and will say
None of this happened in my plan's no not this way
But now don't you see that time is sure cruel
It will make all the wisest into a fool
and just like the architect you may make plan's
But they don't always work out
Not here in this land
Never make too many plan's they may not stick
E Jan 2019
In painting's we find a story that's told
Some of forgiveness some that are bold
But what we don't see is most important of all
That is the emotion that painted it all
Life is a canvas you paint it you're self
You are the artist who the canvas you're health
You learn from mistake's you cover them up
You try to repair with each stroke and each brush
Until then you find you're paint has wore thin
And just like a painting you can't start again
So you live with the mistake's that you have made
The one's that you thought we're better than clay
You built up you're kingdom
And you had it all
But painting's they fade when left on a wall
So now you have grown mighty weary and old
You're paint has now dried
You're story's been told
But be not in anger and be not fear
Cause just like a painting we are all right here
Though yes it is true that some other's are grand
Studied by scholars and gazed on by man
You're painting is special if only to you
So enjoy you're painting
It's painted for you
This is a metaphor for life
And I suppose death
It's a way of expressing how we are all
our own worst enemy
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